The Valley

There is a world that none have broached

though countless have, so near, approached,

wading through raging rivers deep

on whose bed as countless laid down to sleep

in fatigue of the body and of the mind

that started to unravel and unwind,

screaming to that ever-unreachable bank,

succumbing to the water as their sights went blank

and seeking the guidance of an uncaring firmament

with their faith broken and efforts all spent

though a few trudged back down the path they came

none the worse for wear but never the same

for having left untouched that elusive glen

that so teasingly reveals itself to men

only to shy away as one draws near

as prey from its predator, in mortal fear.

Alas! For the futility that here is wrapped

that all human efforts be unconditionally sapped;

I struggle to pen a descriptive word

but that barrier, that river, I cannot fjord.